You write to me that I must consider your views the same as
those of Dion, and you urge me to aid your cause so far as I can
in word and deed. My answer is that, if you have the same opinion
and desire as he had, I consent to aid your cause; but if not, I
shall think more than once about it. Now what his purpose and
desire was, I can inform you from no mere conjecture but from
positive knowledge. For when I made my first visit to Sicily,
being then about forty years old, Dion was of the same age as
Hipparinos is now, and the opinion which he then formed was that
which he always retained, I mean the belief that the Syracusans
ought to be free and governed by the best laws. So it is no
matter for surprise if some God should make Hipparinos adopt the
same opinion as Dion about forms of government. But it is well
worth while that you should all, old as well as young, hear the
way in which this opinion was formed, and I will attempt to give
you an account of it from the beginning. For the present is a
suitable opportunity.

In my youth I went through the same experience as many other
men. I fancied that if, early in life, I became my own master, I
should at once embark on a political career. And I found myself
confronted with the following occurrences in the public affairs
of my own city. The existing constitution being generally
condemned, a revolution took place, and fifty-one men came to the
front as rulers of the revolutionary government, namely eleven in
the city and ten in the Peiraeus-each of these bodies being in
charge of the market and municipal matters-while thirty were
appointed rulers with full powers over public affairs as a whole.
Some of these were relatives and acquaintances of mine, and they
at once invited me to share in their doings, as something to
which I had a claim. The effect on me was not surprising in the
case of a young man. I considered that they would, of course, so
manage the State as to bring men out of a bad way of life into a
good one. So I watched them very closely to see what they would
do.

And seeing, as I did, that in quite a short time they made the
former government seem by comparison something precious as gold-for
among other things they tried to send a friend of mine, the aged
Socrates, whom I should scarcely scruple to describe as the most
upright man of that day, with some other persons to carry off one
of the citizens by force to execution, in order that, whether he
wished it, or not, he might share the guilt of their conduct; but
he would not obey them, risking all consequences in preference to
becoming a partner in their iniquitous deeds-seeing all these
things and others of the same kind on a considerable scale, I
disapproved of their proceedings, and withdrew from any
connection with the abuses of the time.

Not long after that a revolution terminated the power of the
thirty and the form of government as it then was. And once more,
though with more hesitation, I began to be moved by the desire to
take part in public and political affairs. Well, even in the new
government, unsettled as it was, events occurred which one would
naturally view with disapproval; and it was not surprising that
in a period of revolution excessive penalties were inflicted by
some persons on political opponents, though those who had
returned from exile at that time showed very considerable
forbearance. But once more it happened that some of those in
power brought my friend Socrates, whom I have mentioned, to trial
before a court of law, laying a most iniquitous charge against
him and one most inappropriate in his case: for it was on a
charge of impiety that some of them prosecuted and others
condemned and executed the very man who would not participate in
the iniquitous arrest of one of the friends of the party then in
exile, at the time when they themselves were in exile and
misfortune.

As I observed these incidents and the men engaged in public
affairs, the laws too and the customs, the more closely I
examined them and the farther I advanced in life, the more
difficult it seemed to me to handle public affairs aright. For it
was not possible to be active in politics without friends and
trustworthy supporters; and to find these ready to my hand was
not an easy matter, since public affairs at Athens were not
carried on in accordance with the manners and practices of our
fathers; nor was there any ready method by which I could make new
friends. The laws too, written and unwritten, were being altered
for the worse, and the evil was growing with startling rapidity.
The result was that, though at first I had been full of a strong
impulse towards political life, as I looked at the course of
affairs and saw them being swept in all directions by contending
currents, my head finally began to swim; and, though I did not
stop looking to see if there was any likelihood of improvement in
these symptoms and in the general course of public life, I
postponed action till a suitable opportunity should arise.
Finally, it became clear to me, with regard to all existing
cornmunities, that they were one and all misgoverned. For their
laws have got into a state that is almost incurable, except by
some extraordinary reform with good luck to support it. And I was
forced to say, when praising true philosophy that it is by this
that men are enabled to see what justice in public and private
life really is. Therefore, I said, there will be no cessation of
evils for the sons of men, till either those who are pursuing a
right and true philosophy receive sovereign power in the States,
or those in power in the States by some dispensation of
providence become true philosophers.

With these thoughts in my mind I came to Italy and Sicily on
my first visit. My first impressions on arrival were those of
strong disapproval-disapproval of the kind of life which was
there called the life of happiness, stuffed full as it was with
the banquets of the Italian Greeks and Syracusans, who ate to
repletion twice every day, and were never without a partner for
the night; and disapproval of the habits which this manner of
life produces. For with these habits formed early in life, no man
under heaven could possibly attain to wisdom-human nature is not
capable of such an extraordinary combination. Temperance also is
out of the question for such a man; and the same applies to
virtue generally. No city could remain in a state of tranquillity
under any laws whatsoever, when men think it right to squander
all their property in extravagant, and consider it a duty to be
idle in everything else except eating and drinking and the
laborious prosecution of debauchery. It follows necessarily that
the constitutions of such cities must be constantly changing,
tyrannies, oligarchies and democracies succeeding one another,
while those who hold the power cannot so much as endure the name
of any form of government which maintains justice and equality of
rights.

With a mind full of these thoughts, on the top of my previous
convictions, I crossed over to Syracuse-led there perhaps by
chance-but it really looks as if some higher power was even then
planning to lay a foundation for all that has now come to pass
with regard to Dion and Syracuse-and for further troubles too, I
fear, unless you listen to the advice which is now for the second
time offered by me. What do I mean by saying that my arrival in
Sicily at that movement proved to be the foundation on which all
the sequel rests? I was brought into close intercourse with Dion
who was then a young man, and explained to him my views as to the
ideals at which men should aim, advising him to carry them out in
practice. In doing this I seem to have been unaware that I was,
in a fashion, without knowing it, contriving the overthrow of the
tyranny which; subsequently took place. For Dion, who rapidly
assimilated my teaching as he did all forms of knowledge,
listened to me with an eagerness which I had never seen equalled
in any young man, and resolved to live for the future in a better
way than the majority of Italian and Sicilian Greeks, having set
his affection on virtue in preference to pleasure and self-indulgence.
The result was that until the death of Dionysios he lived in a
way which rendered him somewhat unpopular among those whose
manner of life was that which is usual in the courts of despots.

After that event he came to the conclusion that this
conviction, which he himself had gained under the influence of
good teaching, was not likely to be confined to himself. Indeed,
he saw it being actually implanted in other minds-not many
perhaps, but certainly in some; and he thought that with the aid
of the Gods, Dionysios might perhaps become one of these, and
that, if such a thing did come to pass, the result would be a
life of unspeakable happiness both for himself and for the rest
of the Syracusans. Further, he thought it essential that I should
come to Syracuse by all manner of means and with the utmost
possible speed to be his partner in these plans, remembering in
his own case how readily intercourse with me had produced in him
a longing for the noblest and best life. And if it should produce
a similar effect on Dionysios, as his aim was that it should, he
had great hope that, without bloodshed, loss of life, and those
disastrous events which have now taken place, he would be able to
introduce the true life of happiness throughout the whole
territory.

Holding these sound views, Dion persuaded Dionysios to send
for me; he also wrote himself entreating me to come by all manner
of means and with the utmost possible speed, before certain other
persons coming in contact with Dionysios should turn him aside
into some way of life other than the best. What he said, though
perhaps it is rather long to repeat, was as follows: "What
opportunities," he said, "shall we wait for, greater
than those now offered to us by Providence?" And he
described the Syracusan empire in Italy and Sicily, his own
influential position in it, and the youth of Dionysios and how
strongly his desire was directed towards philosophy and education.
His own nephews and relatives, he said, would be readily
attracted towards the principles and manner of life described by
me, and would be most influential in attracting Dionysios in the
same direction, so that, now if ever, we should see the
accomplishment of every hope that the same persons might actually
become both philosophers and the rulers of great States. These
were the appeals addressed to me and much more to the same effect.

My own opinion, so far as the young men were concerned, and
the probable line which their conduct would take, was full of
apprehension-for young men are quick in forming desires, which
often take directions conflicting with one another. But I knew
that the character of Dion's mind was naturally a stable one and
had also the advantage of somewhat advanced years.

Therefore, I pondered the matter and was in two minds as to
whether I ought to listen to entreaties and go, or how I ought to
act; and finally the scale turned in favour of the view that, if
ever anyone was to try to carry out in practice my ideas about
laws and constitutions, now was the time for making the attempt;
for if only I could fully convince one man, I should have secured
thereby the accomplishment of all good things.

With these views and thus nerved to the task, I sailed from
home, in the spirit which some imagined, but principally through
a feeling of shame with regard to myself, lest I might some day
appear to myself wholly and solely a mere man of words, one who
would never of his own will lay his hand to any act. Also there
was reason to think that I should be betraying first and foremost
my friendship and comradeship with Dion, who in very truth was in
a position of considerable danger. If therefore anything should
happen to him, or if he were banished by Dionysios and his other
enemies and coming to us as exile addressed this question to me:
"Plato, I have come to you as a fugitive, not for want of
hoplites, nor because I had no cavalry for defence against my
enemies, but for want of words and power of persuasion, which I
knew to be a special gift of yours, enabling you to lead young
men into the path of goodness and justice, and to establish in
every case relations of friendship and comradeship among them. It
is for the want of this assistance on your part that I have left
Syracuse and am here now. And the disgrace attaching to your
treatment of me is a small matter. But philosophy-whose praises
you are always singing, while you say she is held in dishonour by
the rest of mankind-must we not say that philosophy along with me
has now been betrayed, so far as your action was concerned? Had I
been living at Megara, you would certainly have come to give me
your aid towards the objects for which I asked it; or you would
have thought yourself the most contemptible of mankind. But as it
is, do you think that you will escape the reputation of cowardice
by making excuses about the distance of the journey, the length
of the sea voyage, and the amount of labour involved? Far from it."
To reproaches of this kind what creditable reply could I have
made? Surely none.

I took my departure, therefore, acting, so far as a man can
act, in obedience to reason and justice, and for these reasons
leaving my own occupations, which were certainly not
discreditable ones, to put myself under a tyranny which did not
seem likely to harmonise with my teaching or with myself. By my
departure I secured my own freedom from the displeasure of Zeus
Xenios, and made myself clear of any charge on the part of
philosophy, which would have been exposed to detraction, if any
disgrace had come upon me for faint-heartedness and cowardice.

On my arrival, to cut a long story short, I found the court of
Dionysios full of intrigues and of attempts to create in the
sovereign ill-feeling against Dion. I combated these as far as I
could, but with very little success; and in the fourth month or
thereabouts, charging Dion with conspiracy to seize the throne,
Dionysios put him on board a small boat and expelled him from
Syracuse with ignominy. All of us who were Dion's friends were
afraid that he might take vengeance on one or other of us as an
accomplice in Dion's conspiracy. With regard to me, there was
even a rumour current in Syracuse that I had been put to death by
Dionysios as the cause of all that had occurred. Perceiving that
we were all in this state of mind and apprehending that our fears
might lead to some serious consequence, he now tried to win all
of us over by kindness: me in particular he encouraged, bidding
me be of good cheer and entreating me on all grounds to remain.
For my flight from him was not likely to redound to his credit,
but my staying might do so. Therefore, he made a great pretence
of entreating me. And we know that the entreaties of sovereigns
are mixed with compulsion. So to secure his object he proceeded
to render my departure impossible, bringing me into the
acropolis, and establishing me in quarters from which not a
single ship's captain would have taken me away against the will
of Dionysios, nor indeed without a special messenger sent by him
to order my removal. Nor was there a single merchant, or a single
official in charge of points of departure from the country, who
would have allowed me to depart unaccompanied, and would not have
promptly seized me and taken me back to Dionysios, especially
since a statement had now been circulated contradicting the
previous rumours and giving out that Dionysios was becoming
extraordinarily attached to Plato. What were the facts about this
attachment? I must tell the truth. As time went on, and as
intercourse made him acquainted with my disposition and
character, he did become more and more attached to me, and wished
me to praise him more than I praised Dion, and to look upon him
as more specially my friend than Dion, and he was extraordinarily
eager about this sort of thing. But when confronted with the one
way in which this might have been done, if it was to be done at
all, he shrank from coming into close and intimate relations with
me as a pupil and listener to my discourses on philosophy,
fearing the danger suggested by mischief-makers, that he might be
ensnared, and so Dion would prove to have accomplished all his
object. I endured all this patiently, retaining the purpose with
which I had come and the hope that he might come to desire the
philosophic life. But his resistance prevailed against me.

The time of my first visit to Sicily and my stay there was
taken up with all these incidents. On a later occasion I left
home and again came on an urgent summons from Dionysios. But
before giving the motives and particulars of my conduct then and
showing how suitable and right it was, I must first, in order
that I may not treat as the main point what is only a side issue,
give you my advice as to what your acts should be in the present
position of affairs; afterwards, to satisfy those who put the
question why I came a second time, I will deal fully with the
facts about my second visit; what I have now to say is this.

He who advises a sick man, whose manner of life is prejudicial
to health, is clearly bound first of all to change his patient's
manner of life, and if the patient is willing to obey him, he may
go on to give him other advice. But if he is not willing, I shall
consider one who declines to advise such a patient to be a man
and a physician, and one who gives in to him to be unmanly and
unprofessional. In the same way with regard to a State, whether
it be under a single ruler or more than one, if, while the
government is being carried on methodically and in a right
course, it asks advice about any details of policy, it is the
part of a wise man to advise such people. But when men are
travelling altogether outside the path of right government and
flatly refuse to move in the right path, and start by giving
notice to their adviser that he must leave the government alone
and make no change in it under penalty of death-if such men
should order their counsellors to pander to their wishes and
desires and to advise them in what way their object may most
readily and easily be once for all accomplished, I should
consider as unmanly one who accepts the duty of giving such forms
of advice, and one who refuses it to be a true man.

Holding these views, whenever anyone consults me about any of
the weightiest matters affecting his own life, as, for instance,
the acquisition of property or the proper treatment of body or
mind, if it seems to me that his daily life rests on any system,
or if he seems likely to listen to advice about the things on
which he consults me, I advise him with readiness, and do not
content myself with giving him a merely perfunctory answer. But
if a man does not consult me at all, or evidently does not intend
to follow my advice, I do not take the initiative in advising
such a man, and will not use compulsion to him, even if he be my
own son. I would advise a slave under such circumstances, and
would use compulsion to him if he were unwilling. To a father or
mother I do not think that piety allows one to offer compulsion,
unless they are suffering from an attack of insanity; and if they
are following any regular habits of life which please them but do
not please me, I would not offend them by offering useless,
advice, nor would I flatter them or truckle to them, providing
them with the means of satisfying desires which I myself would
sooner die than cherish. The wise man should go through life with
the same attitude of mind towards his country. If she should
appear to him to be following a policy which is not a good one,
he should say so, provided that his words are not likely either
to fall on deaf ears or to lead to the loss of his own life. But
force against his native land he should not use in order to bring
about a change of constitution, when it is not possible for the
best constitution to be introduced without driving men into exile
or putting them to death; he should keep quiet and offer up
prayers for his own welfare and for that of his country.

These are the principles in accordance with which I should
advise you, as also, jointly with Dion, I advised Dionysios,
bidding him in the first place to live his daily life in a way
that would make him as far as possible master of himself and able
to gain faithful friends and supporters, in order that he might
not have the same experience as his father. For his father,
having taken under his rule many great cities of Sicily which had
been utterly destroyed by the barbarians, was not able to found
them afresh and to establish in them trustworthy governments
carried on by his own supporters, either by men who had no ties
of blood with him, or by his brothers whom he had brought up when
they were younger, and had raised from humble station to high
office and from poverty to immense wealth. Not one of these was
he able to work upon by persuasion, instruction, services and
ties of kindred, so as to make him a partner in his rule; and he
showed himself inferior to Darius with a sevenfold inferiority.
For Darius did not put his trust in brothers or in men whom he
had brought up, but only in his confederates in the overthrow of
the Mede and Eunuch; and to these he assigned portions of his
empire, seven in number, each of them greater than all Sicily;
and they were faithful to him and did not attack either him or
one another. Thus he showed a pattern of what the good lawgiver
and king ought to be; for he drew up laws by which he has secured
the Persian empire in safety down to the present time.

Again, to give another instance, the Athenians took under
their rule very many cities not founded by themselves, which had
been hard hit by the barbarians but were still in existence, and
maintained their rule over these for seventy years, because they
had in each them men whom they could trust. But Dionysios, who
had gathered the whole of Sicily into a single city, and was so
clever that he trusted no one, only secured his own safety with
great difficulty. For he was badly off for trustworthy friends;
and there is no surer criterion of virtue and vice than this,
whether a man is or is not destitute of such friends.

This, then, was the advice which Dion and I gave to Dionysios,
since, owing to bringing up which he had received from his
father, he had had no advantages in the way of education or of
suitable lessons, in the first place...; and, in the second
place, that, after starting in this way, he should make friends
of others among his connections who were of the same age and were
in sympathy with his pursuit of virtue, but above all that he
should be in harmony with himself; for this it was of which he
was remarkably in need. This we did not say in plain words, for
that would not have been safe; but in covert language we
maintained that every man in this way would save both himself and
those whom he was leading, and if he did not follow this path, he
would do just the opposite of this. And after proceeding on the
course which we described, and making himself a wise and
temperate man, if he were then to found again the cities of
Sicily which had been laid waste, and bind them together by laws
and constitutions, so as to be loyal to him and to one another in
their resistance to the attacks of the barbarians, he would, we
told him, make his father's empire not merely double what it was
but many times greater. For, if these things were done, his way
would be clear to a more complete subjugation of the
Carthaginians than that which befell them in Gelon's time,
whereas in our own day his father had followed the opposite
course of levying attribute for the barbarians. This was the
language and these the exhortations given by us, the conspirators
against Dionysios according to the charges circulated from
various sources-charges which, prevailing as they did with
Dionysios, caused the expulsion of Dion and reduced me to a state
of apprehension. But when-to summarise great events which
happened in no great time-Dion returned from the Peloponnese and
Athens, his advice to Dionysios took the form of action.

To proceed-when Dion had twice over delivered the city and
restored it to the citizens, the Syracusans went through the same
changes of feeling towards him as Dionysios had gone through,
when Dion attempted first to educate him and train him to be a
sovereign worthy of supreme power and, when that was done, to be
his coadjutor in all the details of his career. Dionysios
listened to those who circulated slanders to the effect that Dion
was aiming at the tyranny in all the steps which he took at that
time his intention being that Dionysios, when his mind had fallen
under the spell of culture, should neglect the government and
leave it in his hands, and that he should then appropriate it for
himself and treacherously depose Dionysios. These slanders were
victorious on that occasion; they were so once more when
circulated among the Syracusans, winning a victory which took an
extraordinary course and proved disgraceful to its authors. The
story of what then took place is one which deserves careful
attention on the part of those who are inviting me to deal with
the present situation.

I, an Athenian and friend of Dion, came as his ally to the
court of Dionysios, in order that I might create good will in
place of a state war; in my conflict with the authors of these
slanders I was worsted. When Dionysios tried to persuade me by
offers of honours and wealth to attach myself to him, and with a
view to giving a decent colour to Dion's expulsion a witness and
friend on his side, he failed completely in his attempt. Later
on, when Dion returned from exile, he took with him from Athens
two brothers, who had been his friends, not from community in
philosophic study, but with the ordinary companionship common
among most friends, which they form as the result of relations of
hospitality and the intercourse which occurs when one man
initiates the other in the mysteries. It was from this kind of
intercourse and from services connected with his return that
these two helpers in his restoration became his companions.
Having come to Sicily, when they perceived that Dion had been
misrepresented to the Sicilian Greeks, whom he had liberated, as
one that plotted to become monarch, they not only betrayed their
companion and friend, but shared personally in the guilt of his
murder, standing by his murderers as supporters with weapons in
their hands. The guilt and impiety of their conduct I neither
excuse nor do I dwell upon it. For many others make it their
business to harp upon it, and will make it their business in the
future. But I do take exception to the statement that, because
they were Athenians, they have brought shame upon this city. For
I say that he too is an Athenian who refused to betray this same
Dion, when he had the offer of riches and many other honours. For
his was no common or vulgar friendship, but rested on community
in liberal education, and this is the one thing in which a wise
man will put his trust, far more than in ties of personal and
bodily kinship. So the two murderers of Dion were not of
sufficient importance to be causes of disgrace to this city, as
though they had been men of any note.

All this has been said with a view to counselling the friends
and family of Dion. And in addition to this I give for the third
time to you the same advice and counsel which I have given twice
before to others-not to enslave Sicily or any other State to
despots-this my counsel but-to put it under the rule of laws-for
the other course is better neither for the enslavers nor for the
enslaved, for themselves, their children's children and
descendants; the attempt is in every way fraught with disaster.
It is only small and mean natures that are bent upon seizing such
gains for themselves, natures that know nothing of goodness and
justice, divine as well as human, in this life and in the next.

These are the lessons which I tried to teach, first to Dion,
secondly to Dionysios, and now for the third time to you. Do you
obey me thinking of Zeus the Preserver, the patron of third
ventures, and looking at the lot of Dionysios and Dion, of whom
the one who disobeyed me is living in dishonour, while he who
obeyed me has died honourably. For the one thing which is wholly
right and noble is to strive for that which is most honourable
for a man's self and for his country, and to face the
consequences whatever they may be. For none of us can escape
death, nor, if a man could do so, would it, as the vulgar
suppose, make him happy. For nothing evil or good, which is worth
mentioning at all, belongs to things soulless; but good or evil
will be the portion of every soul, either while attached to the
body or when separated from it.

And we should in very truth always believe those ancient and
sacred teachings, which declare that the soul is immortal, that
it has judges, and suffers the greatest penalties when it has
been separated from the body. Therefore also we should consider
it a lesser evil to suffer great wrongs and outrages than to do
them. The covetous man, impoverished as he is in the soul, turns
a deaf ear to this teaching; or if he hears it, he laughs it to
scorn with fancied superiority, and shamelessly snatches for
himself from every source whatever his bestial fancy supposes
will provide for him the means of eating or drinking or glutting
himself with that slavish and gross pleasure which is falsely
called after the goddess of love. He is blind and cannot see in
those acts of plunder which are accompanied by impiety what
heinous guilt is attached to each wrongful deed, and that the
offender must drag with him the burden of this impiety while he
moves about on earth, and when he has travelled beneath the earth
on a journey which has every circumstance of shame and misery.

It was by urging these and other like truths that I convinced
Dion, and it is I who have the best right to be angered with his
murderers in much the same way as I have with Dionysios. For both
they and he have done the greatest injury to me, and I might
almost say to all mankind, they by slaying the man that was
willing to act righteously, and he by refusing to act righteously
during the whole of his rule, when he held supreme power, in
which rule if philosophy and power had really met together, it
would have sent forth a light to all men, Greeks and barbarians,
establishing fully for all the true belief that there can be no
happiness either for the community or for the individual man,
unless he passes his life under the rule of righteousness with
the guidance of wisdom, either possessing these virtues in
himself, or living under the rule of godly men and having
received a right training and education in morals. These were the
aims which Dionysios injured, and for me everything else is a
trifling injury compared with this.

The murderer of Dion has, without knowing it, done the same as
Dionysios. For as regards Dion, I know right well, so far as it
is possible for a man to say anything positively about other men,
that, if he had got the supreme power, he would never have turned
his mind to any other form of rule, but that, dealing first with
Syracuse, his own native land, when he had made an end of her
slavery, clothed her in bright apparel, and given her the garb of
freedom, he would then by every means in his power have ordered
aright the lives of his fellow-citizens by suitable and excellent
laws; and the thing next in order, which he would have set his
heart to accomplish, was to found again all the States of Sicily
and make them free from the barbarians, driving out some and
subduing others, an easier task for him than it was for Hiero. If
these things had been accomplished by a man who was just and
brave and temperate and a philosopher, the same belief with
regard to virtue would have been established among the majority
which, if Dionysios had been won over, would have been
established, I might almost say, among all mankind and would have
given them salvation. But now some higher power or avenging fiend
has fallen upon them, inspiring them with lawlessness,
godlessness and acts of recklessness issuing from ignorance, the
seed from which all evils for all mankind take root and grow and
will in future bear the bitterest harvest for those who brought
them into being. This ignorance it was which in that second
venture wrecked and ruined everything.

And now, for good luck's sake, let us on this third venture
abstain from words of ill omen. But, nevertheless, I advise you,
his friends, to imitate in Dion his love for his country and his
temperate habits of daily life, and to try with better auspices
to carry out his wishes-what these were, you have heard from me
in plain words. And whoever among you cannot live the simple
Dorian life according to the customs of your forefathers, but
follows the manner of life of Dion's murderers and of the
Sicilians, do not invite this man to join you, or expect him to
do any loyal or salutary act; but invite all others to the work
of resettling all the States of Sicily and establishing equality
under the laws, summoning them from Sicily itself and from the
whole Peloponnese-and have no fear even of Athens; for there,
also, are men who excel all mankind in their devotion to virtue
and in hatred of the reckless acts of those who shed the blood of
friends.

But if, after all, this is work for a future time, whereas
immediate action is called for by the disorders of all sorts and
kinds which arise every day from your state of civil strife,
every man to whom Providence has given even a moderate share of
right intelligence ought to know that in times of civil strife
there is no respite from trouble till the victors make an end of
feeding their grudge by combats and banishments and executions,
and of wreaking their vengeance on their enemies. They should
master themselves and, enacting impartial laws, framed not to
gratify themselves more than the conquered party, should compel
men to obey these by two restraining forces, respect and fear;
fear, because they are the masters and can display superior
force; respect, because they rise superior to pleasures and are
willing and able to be servants to the laws. There is no other
way save this for terminating the troubles of a city that is in a
state of civil strife; but a constant continuance of internal
disorders, struggles, hatred and mutual distrust is the common
lot of cities which are in that plight.

Therefore, those who have for the time being gained the upper
hand, when they desire to secure their position, must by their
own act and choice select from all Hellas men whom they have
ascertained to be the best for the purpose. These must in the
first place be men of mature years, who have children and wives
at home, and, as far as possible, a long line of ancestors of
good repute, and all must be possessed of sufficient property.
For a city of ten thousand householders their numbers should be
fifty; that is enough. These they must induce to come from their
own homes by entreaties and the promise of the highest honours;
and having induced them to come they must entreat and command
them to draw up laws after binding themselves by oath to show no
partiality either to conquerors or to conquered, but to give
equal and common rights to the whole State.

When laws have been enacted, what everything then hinges on is
this. If the conquerors show more obedience to the laws than the
conquered, the whole State will be full of security and
happiness, and there will be an escape from all your troubles.
But if they do not, then do not summon me or any other helper to
aid you against those who do not obey the counsel I now give you.
For this course is akin to that which Dion and I attempted to
carry out with our hearts set on the welfare of Syracuse. It is
indeed a second best course. The first and best was that scheme
of welfare to all mankind which we attempted to carry out with
the co-operation of Dionysios; but some chance, mightier than
men, brought it to nothing. Do you now, with good fortune
attending you and with Heaven's help, try to bring your efforts
to a happier issue.

Let this be the end of my advice and injunction and of the
narrative of my first visit to Dionysios. Whoever wishes may next
hear of my second journey and voyage, and learn that it was a
reasonable and suitable proceeding. My first period of residence
in Sicily was occupied in the way which I related before giving
my advice to the relatives and friends of Dion. After those
events I persuaded Dionysios by such arguments as I could to let
me go; and we made an agreement as to what should be done when
peace was made; for at that time there was a state of war in
Sicily. Dionysios said that, when he had put the affairs of his
empire in a position of greater safety for himself, he would send
for Dion and me again; and he desired that Dion should regard
what had befallen him not as an exile, but as a change of
residence. I agreed to come again on these conditions.

When peace had been made, he began sending for me; he
requested that Dion should wait for another year, but begged that
I should by all means come. Dion now kept urging and entreating
me to go. For persistent rumours came from Sicily that Dionysios
was now once more possessed by an extraordinary desire for
philosophy. For this reason Dion pressed me urgently not to
decline his invitation. But though I was well aware that as
regards philosophy such symptoms were not uncommon in young men,
still it seemed to me safer at that time to part company
altogether with Dion and Dionysios; and I offended both of them
by replying that I was an old man, and that the steps now being
taken were quite at variance with the previous agreement.

After this, it seems, Archytes came to the court of Dionysios.
Before my departure I had brought him and his Tarentine circle
into friendly relations with Dionysios. There were some others in
Syracuse who had received some instruction from Dion, and others
had learnt from these, getting their heads full of erroneous
teaching on philosophical questions. These, it seems, were
attempting to hold discussions with Dionysios on questions
connected with such subjects, in the idea that he had been fully
instructed in my views. Now is not at all devoid of natural gifts
for learning, and he has a great craving for honour and glory.
What was said probably pleased him, and he felt some shame when
it became clear that he had not taken advantage of my teaching
during my visit. For these reasons he conceived a desire for more
definite instruction, and his love of glory was an additional
incentive to him. The real reasons why he had learnt nothing
during my previous visit have just been set forth in the
preceding narrative. Accordingly, now that I was safe at home and
had refused his second invitation, as I just now related,
Dionysios seems to have felt all manner of anxiety lest certain
people should suppose that I was unwilling to visit him again
because I had formed a poor opinion of his natural gifts and
character, and because, knowing as I did his manner of life, I
disapproved of it.

It is right for me to speak the truth, and make no complaint
if anyone, after hearing the facts, forms a poor opinion of my
philosophy, and thinks that the tyrant was in the right.
Dionysios now invited me for the third time, sending a trireme to
ensure me comfort on the voyage; he sent also Archedemos-one of
those who had spent some time with Archytes, and of whom he
supposed that I had a higher opinion than of any of the Sicilian
Greeks-and, with him, other men of repute in Sicily. These all
brought the same report, that Dionysios had made progress in
philosophy. He also sent a very long letter, knowing as he did my
relations with Dion and Dion's eagerness also that I should take
ship and go to Syracuse. The letter was framed in its opening
sentences to meet all these conditions, and the tenor of it was
as follows: "Dionysios to Plato," here followed the
customary greeting and immediately after it he said, "If in
compliance with our request you come now, in the first place,
Dion's affairs will be dealt with in whatever way you yourself
desire; I know that you will desire what is reasonable, and I
shall consent to it. But if not, none of Dion's affairs will have
results in accordance with your wishes, with regard either to
Dion himself or to other matters." This he said in these
words; the rest it would be tedious and inopportune to quote.
Other letters arrived from Archytes and the Tarentines, praising
the philosophical studies of Dionysios and saying that, if I did
not now come, I should cause a complete rupture in their
friendship with Dionysios, which had been brought about by me and
was of no small importance to their political interests.

When this invitation came to me at that time in such terms,
and those who had come from Sicily and Italy were trying to drag
me thither, while my friends at Athens were literally pushing me
out with their urgent entreaties, it was the same old tale-that I
must not betray Dion and my Tarentine friends and supporters.
Also I myself had a lurking feeling that there was nothing
surprising in the fact that a young man, quick to learn, hearing
talk of the great truths of philosophy, should feel a craving for
the higher life. I thought therefore that I must put the matter
definitely to the test to see whether his desire was genuine or
the reverse, and on no account leave such an impulse unaided nor
make myself responsible for such a deep and real disgrace, if the
reports brought by anyone were really true. So blindfolding
myself with this reflection, I set out, with many fears and with
no very favourable anticipations, as was natural enough. However,
I went, and my action on this occasion at any rate was really a
case of "the third to the Preserver," for I had the
good fortune to return safely; and for this I must, next to the
God, thank Dionysios, because, though many wished to make an end
of me, he prevented them and paid some proper respect to my
situation.

On my arrival, I thought that first I must put to the test the
question whether Dionysios had really been kindled with the fire
of philosophy, or whether all the reports which had come to
Athens were empty rumours. Now there is a way of putting such
things to the test which is not to be despised and is well suited
to monarchs, especially to those who have got their heads full of
erroneous teaching, which immediately my arrival I found to be
very much the case with Dionysios. One should show such men what
philosophy is in all its extent; what their range of studies is
by which it is approached, and how much labour it involves. For
the man who has heard this, if he has the true philosophic spirit
and that godlike temperament which makes him a kin to philosophy
and worthy of it, thinks that he has been told of a marvellous
road lying before him, that he must forthwith press on with all
his strength, and that life is not worth living if he does
anything else. After this he uses to the full his own powers and
those of his guide in the path, and relaxes not his efforts, till
he has either reached the end of the whole course of study or
gained such power that he is not incapable of directing his steps
without the aid of a guide. This is the spirit and these are the
thoughts by which such a man guides his life, carrying out his
work, whatever his occupation may be, but throughout it all ever
cleaving to philosophy and to such rules of diet in his daily
life as will give him inward sobriety and therewith quickness in
learning, a good memory, and reasoning power; the kind of life
which is opposed to this he consistently hates. Those who have
not the true philosophic temper, but a mere surface colouring of
opinions penetrating, like sunburn, only skin deep, when they see
how great the range of studies is, how much labour is involved in
it, and how necessary to the pursuit it is to have an orderly
regulation of the daily life, come to the conclusion that the
thing is difficult and impossible for them, and are actually
incapable of carrying out the course of study; while some of them
persuade themselves that they have sufficiently studied the whole
matter and have no need of any further effort. This is the sure
test and is the safest one to apply to those who live in luxury
and are incapable of continuous effort; it ensures that such a
man shall not throw the blame upon his teacher but on himself,
because he cannot bring to the pursuit all the qualities
necessary to it. Thus it came about that I said to Dionysios what
I did say on that occasion.

I did not, however, give a complete exposition, nor did
Dionysios ask for one. For he professed to know many, and those
the most important, points, and to have a sufficient hold of them
through instruction given by others. I hear also that he has
since written about what he heard from me, composing what
professes to be his own handbook, very different, so he says,
from the doctrines which he heard from me; but of its contents I
know nothing; I know indeed that others have written on the same
subjects; but who they are, is more than they know themselves.
Thus much at least, I can say about all writers, past or future,
who say they know the things to which I devote myself, whether by
hearing the teaching of me or of others, or by their own
discoveries-that according to my view it is not possible for them
to have any real skill in the matter. There neither is nor ever
will be a treatise of mine on the subject. For it does not admit
of exposition like other branches of knowledge; but after much
converse about the matter itself and a life lived together,
suddenly a light, as it were, is kindled in one soul by a flame
that leaps to it from another, and thereafter sustains itself.
Yet this much I know-that if the things were written or put into
words, it would be done best by me, and that, if they were
written badly, I should be the person most pained. Again, if they
had appeared to me to admit adequately of writing and exposition,
what task in life could I have performed nobler than this, to
write what is of great service to mankind and to bring the nature
of things into the light for all to see? But I do not think it a
good thing for men that there should be a disquisition, as it is
called, on this topic-except for some few, who are able with a
little teaching to find it out for themselves. As for the rest,
it would fill some of them quite illogically with a mistaken
feeling of contempt, and others with lofty and vain-glorious
expectations, as though they had learnt something high and mighty.

On this point I intend to speak a little more at length; for
perhaps, when I have done so, things will be clearer with regard
to my present subject. There is an argument which holds good
against the man ventures to put anything whatever into writing on
questions of this nature; it has often before been stated by me,
and it seems suitable to the present occasion.

For everything that exists there are three instruments by
which the knowledge of it is necessarily imparted; fourth, there
is the knowledge itself, and, as fifth, we must count the thing
itself which is known and truly exists. The first is the name,
the, second the definition, the third. the image, and the fourth
the knowledge. If you wish to learn what I mean, take these in
the case of one instance, and so understand them in the case of
all. A circle is a thing spoken of, and its name is that very
word which we have just uttered. The second thing belonging to it
is its definition, made up names and verbal forms. For that which
has the name "round," "annular," or, "circle,"
might be defined as that which has the distance from its
circumference to its centre everywhere equal. Third, comes that
which is drawn and rubbed out again, or turned on a lathe and
broken up-none of which things can happen to the circle itself-to
which the other things, mentioned have reference; for it is
something of a different order from them. Fourth, comes
knowledge, intelligence and right opinion about these things.
Under this one head we must group everything which has its
existence, not in words nor in bodily shapes, but in souls-from
which it is dear that it is something different from the nature
of the circle itself and from the three things mentioned before.
Of these things intelligence comes closest in kinship and
likeness to the fifth, and the others are farther distant.

The same applies to straight as well as to circular form, to
colours, to the good, the, beautiful, the just, to all bodies
whether manufactured or coming into being in the course of
nature, to fire, water, and all such things, to every living
being, to character in souls, and to all things done and suffered.
For in the case of all these, no one, if he has not some how or
other got hold of the four things first mentioned, can ever be
completely a partaker of knowledge of the fifth. Further, on
account of the weakness of language, these (i.e., the four)
attempt to show what each thing is like, not less than what each
thing is. For this reason no man of intelligence will venture to
express his philosophical views in language, especially not in
language that is unchangeable, which is true of that which is set
down in written characters.

Again you must learn the point which comes next. Every circle,
of those which are by the act of man drawn or even turned on a
lathe, is full of that which is opposite to the fifth thing. For
everywhere it has contact with the straight. But the circle
itself, we say, has nothing in either smaller or greater, of that
which is its opposite. We say also that the name is not a thing
of permanence for any of them, and that nothing prevents the
things now called round from being called straight, and the
straight things round; for those who make changes and call things
by opposite names, nothing will be less permanent (than a name).
Again with regard to the definition, if it is made up of names
and verbal forms, the same remark holds that there is no
sufficiently durable permanence in it. And there is no end to the
instances of the ambiguity from which each of the four suffers;
but the greatest of them is that which we mentioned a little
earlier, that, whereas there are two things, that which has real
being, and that which is only a quality, when the soul is seeking
to know, not the quality, but the essence, each of the four,
presenting to the soul by word and in act that which it is not
seeking (i.e., the quality), a thing open to refutation by the
senses, being merely the thing presented to the soul in each
particular case whether by statement or the act of showing,
fills, one may say, every man with puzzlement and perplexity.

Now in subjects in which, by reason of our defective
education, we have not been accustomed even to search for the
truth, but are satisfied with whatever images are presented to
us, we are not held up to ridicule by one another, the questioned
by questioners, who can pull to pieces and criticise the four
things. But in subjects where we try to compel a man to give a
clear answer about the fifth, any one of those who are capable of
overthrowing an antagonist gets the better of us, and makes the
man, who gives an exposition in speech or writing or in replies
to questions, appear to most of his hearers to know nothing of
the things on which he is attempting to write or speak; for they
are sometimes not aware that it is not the mind of the writer or
speaker which is proved to be at fault, but the defective nature
of each of the four instruments. The process however of dealing
with all of these, as the mind moves up and down to each in turn,
does after much effort give birth in a well-constituted mind to
knowledge of that which is well constituted. But if a man is ill-constituted
by nature (as the state of the soul is naturally in the majority
both in its capacity for learning and in what is called moral
character)-or it may have become so by deterioration-not even
Lynceus could endow such men with the power of sight.

In one word, the man who has no natural kinship with this
matter cannot be made akin to it by quickness of learning or
memory; for it cannot be engendered at all in natures which are
foreign to it. Therefore, if men are not by nature kinship allied
to justice and all other things that are honourable, though they
may be good at learning and remembering other knowledge of
various kinds-or if they have the kinship but are slow learners
and have no memory-none of all these will ever learn to the full
the truth about virtue and vice. For both must be learnt
together; and together also must be learnt, by complete and long
continued study, as I said at the beginning, the true and the
false about all that has real being. After much effort, as names,
definitions, sights, and other data of sense, are brought into
contact and friction one with another, in the course of scrutiny
and kindly testing by men who proceed by question and answer
without ill will, with a sudden flash there shines forth
understanding about every problem, and an intelligence whose
efforts reach the furthest limits of human powers. Therefore
every man of worth, when dealing with matters of worth, will be
far from exposing them to ill feeling and misunderstanding among
men by committing them to writing. In one word, then, it may be
known from this that, if one sees written treatises composed by
anyone, either the laws of a lawgiver, or in any other form
whatever, these are not for that man the things of most worth, if
he is a man of worth, but that his treasures are laid up in the
fairest spot that he possesses. But if these things were worked
at by him as things of real worth, and committed to writing, then
surely, not gods, but men "have themselves bereft him of his
wits."

Anyone who has followed this discourse and digression will
know well that, if Dionysios or anyone else, great or small, has
written a treatise on the highest matters and the first
principles of things, he has, so I say, neither heard nor learnt
any sound teaching about the subject of his treatise; otherwise,
he would have had the same reverence for it, which I have, and
would have shrunk from putting it forth into a world of discord
and uncomeliness. For he wrote it, not as an aid to memory-since
there is no risk of forgetting it, if a man's soul has once laid
hold of it; for it is expressed in the shortest of statements-but
if he wrote it at all, it was from a mean craving for honour,
either putting it forth as his own invention, or to figure as a
man possessed of culture, of which he was not worthy, if his
heart was set on the credit of possessing it. If then Dionysios
gained this culture from the one lesson which he had from me, we
may perhaps grant him the possession of it, though how he
acquired it-God wot, as the Theban says; for I gave him the
teaching, which I have described, on that one occasion and never
again.

The next point which requires to be made clear to anyone who
wishes to discover how things really happened, is the reason why
it came about that I did not continue my teaching in a second and
third lesson and yet oftener. Does Dionysios, after a single
lesson, believe himself to know the matter, and has he an
adequate knowledge of it, either as having discovered it for
himself or learnt it before from others, or does he believe my
teaching to be worthless, or, thirdly, to be beyond his range and
too great for him, and himself to be really unable to live as one
who gives his mind to wisdom and virtue? For if he thinks it
worthless, he will have to contend with many who say the
opposite, and who would be held in far higher repute as judges
than Dionysios, if on the other hand, he thinks he has discovered
or learnt the things and that they are worth having as part of a
liberal education, how could he, unless he is an extraordinary
person, have so recklessly dishonoured the master who has led the
way in these subjects? How he dishonoured him, I will now state.

Up to this time he had allowed Dion to remain in possession of
his property and to receive the income from it. But not long
after the foregoing events, as if he had entirely forgotten his
letter to that effect, he no longer allowed Dion's trustees to
send him remittances to the Peloponnese, on the pretence that the
owner of the property was not Dion but Dion's son, his own
nephew, of whom he himself was legally the trustee. These were
the actual facts which occurred up to the point which we have
reached. They had opened my eyes as to the value of Dionysios'
desire for philosophy, and I had every right to complain, whether
I wished to do so or not. Now by this time it was summer and the
season for sea voyages; therefore I decided that I must not be
vexed with Dionysios rather than with myself and those who had
forced me to come for the third time into the strait of Scylla,
**** that once again I might To fell Charybdis measure back my
course, **** but must tell Dionysios that it was impossible for
me to remain after this outrage had been put upon Dion. He tried
to soothe me and begged me to remain, not thinking it desirable
for himself that I should arrive post haste in person as the
bearer of such tidings. When his entreaties produced no effect,
he promised that he himself would provide me with transport. For
my intention was to embark on one of the trading ships and sail
away, being indignant and thinking it my duty to face all
dangers, in case I was prevented from going-since plainly and
obviously I was doing no wrong, but was the party wronged.

Seeing me not at all inclined to stay, he devised the
following scheme to make me stay during that sading season. On
the next day he came to me and made a plausible proposal: "Let
us put an end," he said, "to these constant quarrels
between you and me about Dion and his affairs. For your sake I
will do this for Dion. I require him to take his own property and
reside in the Peloponnese, not as an exile, but on the
understanding that it is open for him to migrate here, when this
step has the joint approval of himself, me, and you his friends;
and this shall be open to him on the understanding that he does
not plot against me. You and your friends and Dion's friends here
must be sureties for him in this, and he must give you security.
Let the funds which he receives be deposited in the Peloponnese
and at Athens, with persons approved by you, and let Dion enjoy
the income from them but have no power to take them out of
deposit without the approval of you and your friends. For I have
no great confidence in him, that, if he has this property at his
disposal, he will act justly towards me, for it will be no small
amount; but I have more confidence in you and your friends. See
if this satisfies you; and on these conditions remain for the
present year, and at the next season you shall depart taking the
property with you. I am quite sure that Dion will be grateful to
you, if you accomplish so much on his behalf."

When I heard this proposal I was vexed, but after reflection
said I would let him know my view of it on the following day. We
agreed to that effect for the moment, and afterwards when I was
by myself I pondered the matter in much distress. The first
reflection that came up, leading the way in my self-communing,
was this: "Come suppose that Dionysios intends to do none of
the things which he has mentioned, but that, after my departure,
he writes a plausible letter to Dion, and orders several of his
creatures to write to the same effect, telling him of the
proposal which he has now made to me, making out that he was
willing to do what he proposed, but that I refused and completely
neglected Dion's interests. Further, suppose that he is not
willing to allow my departure, and without giving personal orders
to any of the merchants, makes it clear, as he easily can, to all
that he not wish me to sail, will anyone consent to take me as a
passenger, when I leave the house: of Dionysios?"

For in addition to my other troubles, I was lodging at that
time in the garden which surround his house, from which even the
gatekeeper would have refused to let me go, unless an order had
been sent to him from Dionysios. "Suppose however that I
wait for the year, I shall be able to write word of these things
to Dion, stating the position in which I am, and the steps which
I am trying to take. And if Dionysios does any of the things
which he says, I shall have accomplished something that is not
altogether to be sneered at; for Dion's property is, at a fair
estimate, perhaps not less than a hundred talents. If however the
prospect which I see looming in the future takes the course which
may reasonably be expected, I know not what I shall do with
myself. Still it is perhaps necessary to go on working for a
year, and to attempt to prove by actual fact the machinations of
Dionysios."

Having come to this decision, on the following day I said to
Dionysios, "I have decided to remain. But," I
continued, "I must ask that you will not regard me as
empowered to act for Dion, but will along with me write a letter
to him, stating what has now been decided, and enquire whether
this course satisfies him. If it does not, and if he has other
wishes and demands, he must write particulars of them as soon as
possible, and you must not as yet take any hasty step with regard
to his interests."

This was what was said and this was the agreement which was
made, almost in these words. Well, after this the trading-ships
took their departure, and it was no longer possible for me to
take mine, when Dionysios, if you please, addressed me with the
remark that half the property must be regarded as belonging to
Dion and half to his son. Therefore, he said, he would sell it,
and when it was sold would give half to me to take away, and
would leave half on the spot for the son. This course, he said,
was the most just. This proposal was a blow to me, and I thought
it absurd to argue any longer with him; however, I said that we
must wait for Dion's letter, and then once more write to tell him
of this new proposal. His next step was the brilliant one of
selling the whole of Dion's property, using his own discretion
with regard to the manner and terms of the sale and of the
purchasers. He spoke not a word to me about the matter from
beginning to end, and I followed his example and never talked to
him again about Dion's affairs; for I did not think that I could
do any good by doing so. This is the history so far of my efforts
to come to the rescue of philosophy and of my friends.

After this Dionysios and I went on with our daily life, I with
my eyes turned abroad like a bird yearning to fly from its perch,
and he always devising some new way of scaring me back and of
keeping a tight hold on Dion's property. However, we gave out to
all Sicily that we were friends. Dionysios, now deserting the
policy of his father, attempted to lower the pay of the older
members of his body guard. The soldiers were furious, and,
assembling in great numbers, declared that they would not submit.
He attempted to use force to them, shutting the gates of the
acropolis; but they charged straight for the walls, yelling out
an unintelligible and ferocious war cry. Dionysios took fright
and conceded all their demands and more to the peltasts then
assembled.

A rumour soon spread that Heracleides had been the cause of
all the trouble. Hearing this, Heracleides kept out of the way.
Dionysios was trying to get hold of him, and being unable to do
so, sent for Theodotes to come to him in his garden. It happened
that I was walking in the garden at the same time. I neither know
nor did I hear the rest of what passed between them, but what
Theodotes said to Dionysios in my presence I know and remember.
"Plato," he said, "I am trying to convince our
friend Dionysios that, if I am able to bring Heracleides before
us to defend himself on the charges which have been made against
him, and if he decides that Heracleides must no longer live in
Sicily, he should be allowed (this is my point) to take his son
and wife and sail to the Peloponnese and reside there, taking no
action there against Dionysios and enjoying the income of his
property. I have already sent for him and will send for him
again; and if he comes in obedience either to my former message
or to this one-well and good. But I beg and entreat Dionysios
that, if anyone finds Heracleides either in the country or here,
no harm shall come to him, but that he may retire from the
country till Dionysios comes to some other decision. Do you agree
to this?" he added, addressing Dionysios. "I agree,"
he replied, "that even if he is found at your house, no harm
shall be done to him beyond what has now been said."

On the following day Eurybios and Theodotes came to me in the
evening, both greatly disturbed. Theodotes said, "Plato, you
were present yesterday during the promises made by Dionysios to
me and to you about Heracleides?" "Certainly," I
replied. "Well," he continued, "at this moment
peltasts are scouring the country seeking to arrest Heracleides;
and he must be somewhere in this neighbourhood. For Heaven's sake
come with us to Dionysios." So we went and stood in the
presence of Dionysios; and those two stood shedding silent tears,
while I said: "These men are afraid that you may take strong
measures with regard to Heracleides contrary to what was agreed
yesterday. For it seems that he has returned and has been seen
somewhere about here." On hearing this he blazed up and
turned all colours, as a man would in a rage. Theodotes, falling
before him in tears, took his hand and entreated him to do
nothing of the sort. But I broke in and tried to encourage him,
saying: "Be of good cheer, Theodotes; Dionysios will not
have the heart to take any fresh step contrary to his promises of
yesterday." Fixing his eye on me, and assuming his most
autocratic air he said, "To you I promised nothing small or
great." "By the gods," I said, "you did
promise that forbearance for which our friend here now appeals."
With these words I turned away and went out. After this he
continued the hunt for Heracleides, and Theodotes, sending
messages, urged Heracleides to take flight. Dionysios sent out
Teisias and some peltasts with orders to pursue him. But
Heracleides, as it was said, was just in time, by a small
fraction of a day, in making his escape into Carthaginian
territory.

After this Dionysios thought that his long cherished scheme
not to restore Dion's property would give him a plausible excuse
for hostility towards me; and first of all he sent me out of the
acropolis, finding a pretext that the women were obliged to hold
a sacrificial service for ten days in the garden in which I had
my lodging. He therefore ordered me to stay outside in the house
of Archedemos during this period. While I was there, Theodotes
sent for me and made a great outpouring of indignation at these
occurrences, throwing the blame on Dionysios. Hearing that I had
been to see Theodotes he regarded this, as another excuse, sister
to the previous one, for quarrelling with me. Sending a messenger
he enquired if I had really been conferring with Theodotes on his
invitation "Certainly," I replied, "Well,"
continued the messenger, "he ordered me to tell you that you
are not acting at all well in preferring always Dion and Dion's
friends to him." And he did not send for me to return to his
house, as though it were now clear that Theodotes and Heracleides
were my friends, and he my enemy. He also thought that I had no
kind feelings towards him because the property of Dion was now
entirely done for.

After this I resided outside the acropolis among the
mercenaries. Various people then came to me, among them those of
the ships' crews who came from Athens, my own fellow citizens,
and reported that I was evil spoken of among the peltasts, and
that some of them were threatening to make an end of me, if they
could ket hold of me Accordingly I devised the following plan for
my safety.

I sent to Archytes and my other friends in Taras, telling them
the plight I was in. Finding some excuse for an embassy from
their city, they sent a thirty-oared galley with Lamiscos, one of
themselves, who came and entreated Dionysios about me, saying
that I wanted to go, and that he should on no account stand in my
way. He consented and allowed me to go, giving me money for the
journey. But for Dion's property I made no further request, nor
was any of it restored.

I made my way to the Peloponnese to Olympia, where I found
Dion a spectator at the Games, and told him what had occurred.
Calling Zeus to be his witness, he at once urged me with my
relatives and friends to make preparations for taking vengeance
on Dionysios-our ground for action being the breach of faith to a
guest-so he put it and regarded it, while his own was his unjust
expulsion and banishment. Hearing this, I told him that he might
call my friends to his aid, if they wished to go; "But for
myself," I continued, "you and others in a way forced
me to be the sharer of Dionysios' table and hearth and his
associate in the acts of religion. He probably believed the
current slanders, that I was plotting with you against him and
his despotic rule; yet feelings of scruple prevailed with him,
and he spared my life. Again, I am hardly of the age for being
comrade in arms to anyone; also I stand as a neutral between you,
if ever you desire friendship and wish to benefit one another; so
long as you aim at injuring one another, call others to your aid."
This I said, because I was disgusted with my misguided
journeyings to Sicily and my ill-fortune there. But they
disobeyed me and would not listen to my attempts at
reconciliation, and so brought on their own heads all the evils
which have since taken place. For if Dionysios had restored to
Dion his property or been reconciled with him on any terms, none
of these things would have happened, so far as human foresight
can foretell. Dion would have easily been kept in check by my
wishes and influence. But now, rushing upon one another, they
have caused universal disaster.

Dion's aspiration however was the same that I should say my
own or that of any other right-minded man ought to be. With
regard to his own power, his friends and his country the ideal of
such a man would be to win the greatest power and honour by
rendering the greatest services. And this end is not attained if
a man gets riches for himself, his supporters and his country, by
forming plots and getting together conspirators, being all the
while a poor creature, not master of himself, overcome by the
cowardice which fears to fight against pleasures; nor is it
attained if he goes on to kill the men of substance, whom he
speaks of as the enemy, and to plunder their possessions, and
invites his confederates and supporters to do the same, with the
object that no one shall say that it is his fault, if he
complains of being poor. The same is true if anyone renders
services of this kind to the State and receives honours from her
for distributing by decrees the property of the few among the
many-or if, being in charge the affairs of a great State which
rules over many small ones, he unjustly appropriates to his own
State the possessions of the small ones. For neither a Dion nor
any other man will, with his eyes open, make his way by steps
like these to a power which will be fraught with destruction to
himself and his descendants for all time; but he will advance
towards constitutional government and the framing of the justest
and best laws, reaching these ends without executions and murders
even on the smallest scale.

This course Dion actually followed, thinking it preferable to
suffer iniquitous deeds rather than to do them; but, while taking
precautions against them, he nevertheless, when he had reached
the climax of victory over his enemies, took a false step and
fell, a catastrophe not at all surprising. For a man of piety,
temperance and wisdom, when dealing with the impious, would not
be entirely blind to the character of such men, but it would
perhaps not be surprising if he suffered the catastrophe that
might befall a good ship's captain, who would not be entirely
unaware of the approach of a storm, but might be unaware of its
extraordinary and startling violence, and might therefore be
overwhelmed by its force. The same thing caused Dion's downfall.
For he was not unaware that his assailants were thoroughly bad
men, but he was unaware how high a pitch of infatuation and of
general wickedness and greed they had reached. This was the cause
of his downfall, which has involved Sicily in countless sorrows.

As to the steps which should be taken after the events which I
have now related, my advice has been given pretty fully and may
be regarded as finished; and if you ask my reasons for recounting
the story of my second journey to Sicily, it seemed to me
essential that an account of it must be given because of the
strange and paradoxical character of the incidents. If in this
present account of them they appear to anyone more intelligible,
and seem to anyone to show sufficient grounds in view of the
circumstances, the present statement is adequate and not too
lengthy.